


What's Missing Is What Hurts the Most

by mrstater, vladnyrki



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-05 20:21:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5388977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrstater/pseuds/mrstater, https://archiveofourown.org/users/vladnyrki/pseuds/vladnyrki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the past catches up with them, Coulson and Rosalind find brief sanctuary together in the present. Set between 3x08 and 3x09.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's Missing Is What Hurts the Most

She wasn't lying to him. That was the most unexpected thing Rosalind had revealed in this night of revelations. It would have been so much easier if she had been. Coulson had built an entire career on dealing with liars. Even lies about vulnerability and emotional compromise. Especially those kinds of lies.

There were two things he was sure of after he confronted her: Rosalind genuinely didn't know that Malick was Hydra, and she was genuinely hurt by the idea that he'd been playing her.

The latter rattled him more than it should have. A lot more. In fact he hadn't felt quite this unsure of the extent of his own emotional involvement since the Daniels case.

Since Audrey.

"I feel kind of like I've been called to the principal's office," Rosalind said, when they were alone in Coulson's quarters, the team having scattered to dig up everything they could on Malick and the NASA program. She'd pulled herself together a bit better than he had. Impressive, really, given what she'd learned about the ATCU and the man she'd trusted. "Do you mind telling me why?"

Now that was question he couldn't answer, since he didn't quite know what had propelled him to tell her to follow him.

To his private quarters no less. His inner sanctuary within the base. The only place where he could wallow in his misery and lick his wounds in peace.

"Since we can't take you back to Washington right now, you might as well settle here for the night. As the Director, I have the priceless privilege of a private bathroom and all," he smiled awkwardly, trying to discretely put the picture on his bedside table face-down. Of course, Rosalind would look later, but he wouldn't be there to witness it. _Coward_. "Give me five minutes and I'll be out of your hair. I'll sleep in my office."

It was where he fell asleep most of the time, anyway, when Daisy or May wasn't there to kick his ass back to his quarters.

He glimpsed a flicker of emotion on Rosalind's face, but he turned away before he had time to analyze what, specifically, that was.

"I'd say you were being chivalrous, if you hadn't just copped to playing me all this time," she replied.

She spoke with more of the bravado he'd come to expect from her, shrewd eyes watching his every move as he went to the dresser, pulled out something for her to sleep in, a change of clothes for himself. She hadn't managed to completely cover the slight hitch in her voice, the same vulnerable, disappointed tone he'd heard earlier when he cornered her, but only recognized now that the heat of the moment was over.

"Sorry," she added. "It's your job, I get it. I just...When you lose someone you love, it's hard to let people in. Then when you finally do, and you learn they were just using you. Not one someone, but two…"

Exhaling heavily, Coulson pushed the dresser drawer shut, turned to face her.

"It's not that," he shook his head, tiredness beginning to pull at his muscles. "You were right, I used you every bit as much as you used me. Even more. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable, and…"

Before he finished, she made a bee-line to the bedside table, her fingers brushing the face-down picture.

"Phil, I really did my homework about you. Why did you think I played the seduction game?"

Tension stretched across the tendons of his shoulders as he watched her touch the photo of Audrey. "What, do you want me to admit how long it's been since I had a relationship?"

"I don't need you to," Rosalind replied. "I know about TAHITI, what happened on the Helicarrier before the Battle of New York. All of it, remember? Including the broken-hearted woman at your funeral." In contrast with her sharp-edged words, her face softened as she picked up the picture and looked at it. "I've been that woman."

He watched her as she swallowed, her expression sad and distant.

"Maybe we could accept once and for all that we both know that _this_ ," she gestured vaguely between them, "isn't exactly what we _want_ the most. But maybe it's what we _need_ right now"

She put the picture back on the bedside table, carefully. Face up.

"We're past the age of ever afters, aren't we, Phil?"

Coulson looked down at the clothes he'd balled up in his hands. Roz was a woman of many talents, her ability to cut through bullshit ranking pretty high up the list, if not at the very top.

"You know she said almost those exact words to me," he replied, quietly, and let his gaze drift across the rug to the photo of Audrey, a candid he'd snapped of her at an orchestra after-party, head thrown back in laughter, acknowledging the past. "Audrey," he said.

"Smart woman," Rosalind said. "But then I'd expect nothing less of a career musician. Career spies, on the other hand…"

The wry note in her voice made him lift his eyes to see the crooked smile begin to form at the corner of her mouth, but just as quickly it faded.

"Just tell me I'm not a total idiot," she added, quietly. "That I didn't dream up everything I thought might have been a connection with us."

For a second, his mind wandered back to the Half-Moon Pub, shared smiles and light touches. He shook his head as if in defeat.

"No, you didn't…" he whispered, his eyes back to the clothes in his hands, trying to gather the strength to be honest. He owed her that much. After a deep breath, his eyes rose again to meet hers. "But I can't give you much."

In that sense, she'd been right when she called him out on his inability to connect with anybody these days. His inability to just let himself _feel_. Spies didn't get to have happily ever-afters, he'd learned that much the hard way when a bullet went through his father's head, interrupting a fishing afternoon in the most horrific way. _Tragic hunting accident_ , the police had said. When his mother took his hand after a hasty funeral and led him to the already loaded car, he discovered that there was no such thing as _tragic hunting accident_. At least not in his family.

A single bullet out of nowhere destroyed his life as he had known it for the first nine years of his life. And defined his life to come.

Cutting himself out of Audrey's life had been terribly painful, seeing the announcement of her wedding to some Portland doctor in the musical news he tracked to keep an eye on her had been devastating, but at least she was safe. He owed her that much. _When you love someone, set them free…_ Easier said than done, but it was the right thing to do. He had learnt that much.

On the other hand, it had felt so good, having this connection again. The amused interest, the curiosity, the half-fighting, half-flirtation, the tentative fondness, the desire...

He shook his head again.

"In fact, I don't know what to do."

She gave him an exasperated look that made him brace for one of her sharp retorts, but instead she said, "Fair enough, after a day of uncovering the truth about yet another Hydra conspiracy. Maybe I can help you out. Have a seat."

There was nowhere to sit but the bed. He looked at her as she lowered herself onto the edge, toed off her shoes, then patted the empty spot beside her.

"Just a seat, Phil. You know what my seduction style is, and this clearly isn't it."

This brought a smile to his lips. No, it definitely wasn't, but at the same time, maybe it was, just a little. More memories of their night together came back to him. His smile broadened. Then again, it was probably Rosalind's personality, period.

"Well, you're being a bit bossy."

He followed her lead and sat down nonetheless.

"I prefer _demonstrating leadership qualities_ ," she said, her shoulder leaning slightly against his as his weight shifted the mattress. "You said you didn't know what to do. Truth is, I don't either. Everything I thought I was doing...Every questionable, morally grey decision I justified because I believed it was the right thing…"

"Don't do that to yourself. It gets you nowhere." He nudged his shoulder against hers. "Take it from someone who's been there, done that, got the t-shirt."

How many sleepless nights had he endured , trying to remember every detail of every mission in the last thirty years? In some cases, he knew he could trust in Fury. But hadn't Fury been manipulated himself? Weren't his orders formed in some twisted, horrible way by Hydra?

Then there were the cases that never sat well with him, for good reasons it now seemed. Coulson sighed heavily.

"You follow the orders, you trust the system, you believe in it, then… you realize that you were actually one the bad guys, that your actions only provoked a turn to the worse in recent history."

What if he hadn't followed the order to kill the guy in Sarajevo? What if he hadn't blown up the installation in Somalia? What about the South African scientist whose arm he twisted into accepting SHIELD's supervision?

"When she agreed to join us, Romanoff said she wanted to wipe out the red on her ledger. She only added more. My own is quite bloody as well."

"Good talk," Rosalind replied, patting his thigh. "This is making me feel a lot better. That t-shirt, does it say, _Hydra has me in its tentacles?_ "

She sighed, and leaned her head against his shoulder, leaving her hand on his moved his arm to wrap it around her slightly trembling shoulder. He knew he kept the room a bit chilly, he liked it that way-part of his officially non-existent Russian heritage-but this wasn't that.

"More like _I'm an idiot, Hydra made a puppet out of me_ on the front, and _It runs in the family, my mother was brainwashed by the Red Room_ on the back."

And there it was, out in the open. He had to wait for his 51st birthday to tell the truth to a sixth person. And it didn't get any easier with time, contrary to popular belief. Just like when Director Carter and Fury took him into SHIELD, just like when he had told his story to May decades ago, as they were infiltrated in the confines of a Siberian mine, just like he told the tale to Audrey, he felt the usual rush of panic and pain. Then again, he needed to gain her trust. He needed to earn it, like he'd earned Natasha's a decade ago. So he bared his soul.

If he didn't know what to do about their personal relationship, he already envisioned what they could do together against Hydra.

How they could be each other's crutch for a while.

"That explains a lot," Rosalind replied, with a light pressure on his thigh. "Although it's really not fair that I actually went undercover in the KGB and that's still not information I was privy to. I'm too tired to get the story out of you tonight."

"I'm too tired to tell it," Coulson replied. "Maybe over burgers and the next meeting of the _I Unknowingly Worked for Hydra_ club?"

"This is not a club I ever wanted to be a member of" Rosalind said, fingers idly stroking his leg. "And I really, really want to get these bastards." She turned her head slightly on his shoulder to look up at him, her breath warm on his neck. "I hope you can trust me enough to let me do my part."

He tightened his hold around her shoulders. "I wanted to trust you before, and now, I know that I can do just that. And thanks for helping my team out. by the way."

"The least I could do," she replied. "Literally." For a moment she didn't say anything else, just let herself relax into his arm around her, breathing in the lingering scent of his aftershave. "So...are you still going to sleep in your office?"

Standing up and heading to his office would be the correct thing to do, after all that transpired earlier this day. But not accepting Audrey's invitation for drinks after they caught Daniels would have been the wisest choice as well. _Sometimes, you had to throw caution to the wind._ God only knew what kind of risk his parents had taken. And for a while, it had been worth it. They'd been happy, the three of them. He and Audrey had been blissfully happy until he decided to confront Loki on his own, ruining everything.

"Probably not…"

" _Probably_?" Rosalind echoed, tilting her face up a little closer to his as he leaned in toward her. "What can I do to make you sound a little more certain?"

In answer, he kissed her. Not the most passionate one they'd ever shared, but gently, which was what he sensed she needed more at the moment. Her hand left his thigh, skimming up over the front of his shirt to touch his jawline with the tips of her fingers. She leaned back in the crook of his arm, taking him with her, not breaking the kiss till they lay curled together on the bed.

"Now, that's much better," she whispered against his lips. "Besides, you wouldn't let me freeze to death in there, _Director_? That wouldn't be very honorable."

As she talked, her feet sought warmth against the material of his jeans, and she nuzzled his neck with a cold nose. Maybe most of the trembling earlier was really due to the temperature.

"I can put some heating on, if you want," he offered, starting to disentangle himself from her grasp.

Her fingers hooked over his collar, holding him still. "I'd say don't you dare go anywhere, but you might call me bossy again."

Coulson grinned and shifted to place a kiss on the end of her cold nose. "Only demonstrating leadership qualities. But believe it or not, despite my fondness for vintage things, I do have a thermostat app on my phone."

"Well, then, by all means."

Rosalind released him, sitting up as he moved to reach into his pocket. Retrieving the t-shirt and pajama bottoms he'd discarded at the foot of the bed, he unfurled the top, laughing at the logo on the front.

"Captain America? Really?"

"Gift from Romanoff. She has a twisted sense of humor." He should have never talked about his collection cards in front of her. "But you know I was raised in Wisconsin, right?" He raised his phone in a mock threat. "The cold doesn't bother me…" As he spoke, he discarded his dress shirt and put his own SHIELD T-shirt on. "I was trying to be diplomatic, not claim anything, and I don't know your sports teams." He went back to the dresser and opened the drawer. "If you want a Bulls t-shirt or a New Orleans Saints one, go ahead… I even have some English soccer championship and rugby ones."

"Cap's fine," she replied, and started to unbutton her own blouse to change. "Pretty relevant at the moment, anyway. But for the record," she added, pulling the t-shirt over her head, "I go to Nats games when I can. The baseball bat wasn't _totally_ to pull your strings."

Coulson couldn't resist a smile as he pulled off his jeans, drew back a corner of the comforter and slipped under it in his boxers. "It's been a while since I last went to a game. We should add that to our bucket list, once we've kicked Hydra's ass for good." He had missed this kind of casual banter so much.

Rosalind slid beneath the covers with him, her smile fading as she faced him on her pillow, reaching for his hand. "We will kick their asses, won't we?"

He squeezed her hand. "We have to. And I'm glad you're on our team."


End file.
